


Hold me close

by percyinpanties



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dom Shiro (Voltron), Established Relationship, M/M, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9904898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percyinpanties/pseuds/percyinpanties
Summary: Shiro takes Lance apart in the best way possible, only to put him back together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [ this gorgeous piece of artwork ](http://jaspurrlock.tumblr.com/post/157529423517/git-gud) on tumblr

The blindfold is fastened at the back of Lance’s head with quick and sure motions.

The world turns dark around him, the fabric thick enough to block out even the light in the room, despite how soft and lightweight it feels against Lance’s skin.

They’ve only just started and Lance is already half hard in his jeans.

He hears Shiro hum quietly, then feels Shiro’s thumbs smooth over the blindfold again, making sure it is comfortably in place.  Lance wonders for a moment where Shiro got it from, the fabric is definitely not one to be found on earth and it’s cut to fit Lance’s face so perfectly that somehow Lance doubts Shiro picked it up in some space mall they came by.

“Good?” Shiro asks, voice low. A shiver runs down Lance’s spine. This man is going to be the death of him one day.

 

Nothing has happened yet, not really, but anticipation is making Lance’s nerves thrum.

With his sight taken from him and Lance forced to rely on his other senses, everything else feels a little more intense.

The cool air of Shiro’s room where they’re standing, contrasting with the warmth Shiro radiates in front of him. One smooth and one calloused hand caressing his face, his neck and shoulders. Every breath that makes Shiro’s shoulders rise and fall.

Lance knows that feeling is only going to become stronger as time goes on tonight.

“Good.” He echoes quietly.

 

He wants to say more, wants to let his mouth give way to the stream of thoughts running through his mind, but Lance stays silent. It’s easier around Shiro, to keep the flood in - his presence helps Lance slow down and sort through the things running through his head before they burst out.

 

Shiro’s hands run from where they cupped Lance’s face down to his throat, fingers looping around his neck. The grip is loose, non-threatening (not that Lance has anything to be afraid of, he’d lay his life in those very hands) but even so, it makes Lance shiver.

Like this, Shiro must be able to feel Lance’s rapidly racing pulse.

The cool thumb of Shiro’s metal arm slowly traces along what little of Lance’s jaw it can reach, then settles over Lance’s pulse point below.

Every touch is slow and deliberate and Lance knows he will be a mess at the end of this.

Shiro’s hand slides to the back of his neck, settles there and pulls Lance forward. He comes easily, stepping into Shiro’s space and resting his own hands on Shiro’s chest.

Their lips meet for a slow and gentle kiss and Lance’s heart flutters.

Shiro makes him feel loved, makes Lance _know_ he is loved, with nothing but a little kiss.

Not for the first time, Lance wonders how he managed to get this lucky.

“I’m going to put the collar on now.” Shiro says as he breaks the kiss. His forelock brushes Lance’s nose and forehead, and he lets out a small giggle before nodding.

Lance knows Shiro trusts him to speak up if necessary, so it’s no surprise Shiro moves without waiting for an actual answer.

A hum rumbles through Shiro’s chest, Lance can feel the vibration under his palms, and then Shrio’s fingers are running back over Lance’s face in an innocent caress before they pull away entirely.

A moment later comes the sensation of smooth, cool leather against Lance’s throat. It feels as good on his skin as the blindfold, some luxurious alien product, perfectly sized to his neck. When Shiro closes the collar at the back of Lance’s neck, a needy sound slips past his lips.

He can feel the weight of it with every breath.

Lance loves this feeling of being owned.

“Good boy.” Shiro praises quietly, sounding amused by the pet name. Lance feels his own lips twitch into a smile. Then: “What colour?”

“Green.” Lance responds without hesitation. Shiro is safe, always safe, and Lance feels good, has no reason to doubt and waver.

Shiro’s hands stay on Lance’s skin, always keeping a point of contact, even as they move around. Closer to the bed, Lance imagines.

The reassurance a simple touch brings is welcome, especially when Lance is blindfolded like this and vulnerability threatens to dip over into anxiety and discomfort with the wrong move.

Neither of them wants that.

“I want you to take off that shirt, can you do that for me?” Shiro asks and runs his fingers just a little under the hem of Lance’s top, as if emphasizing his point.

Shivering under the touch, Lance nods. By now, he is straining against his jeans, and Shiro has hardly even laid a hand on him yet.

 

His fingers find the hem of his tank top and he doesn’t hesitate before pulling it up over his head. Shiro moves his arms out of the way for only a second before they are back on Lance’s skin again.

Bare from the waist upwards, Lance allows himself to be touched.

Shiro’s hands move slowly, teasing, running over lean muscle and skin taut over the bone. Lance feels small in Shiro’s large hands, a good feeling only that is intensified by his inability to see.

He feels warm palms cascade over his abdomen, caress the outline of his ribs and pecs. Fingers brush Lance’s nipples and others trace along the knobs of his spine. Every touch raises goosebumps in its wake.

It would be easy to lose himself in this, Lance thinks, as his lips part with a little huff.

Shiro knows exactly what he is doing to Lance. He must see how hard Lance is already.

Shrio knows his lover’s weak spots, knows where Lance wants to be touched the most and how to draw needy, whiny noises out of him.

“Let’s take off the rest.” Shiro whispers, voice drawing Lance’s attention back to the present.

Even though his gentle tone makes it sound like a request, Lance knows this isn’t as much a question as it is an order. Shiro always pulls him deeper with this gentle dominance, usually only allowing himself to be more demanding and rougher toward the end.

As soon as Shiro gives him the space, Lance complies eagerly and strips himself from the rest of his clothes. Shiro is steadying him as Lance steps out of his jeans, toes off his socks and pushes down his boxers before kicking them all out of the way. Cool air hits his skin, his flushed erection, and Lance gives a small hiss when he’s finally free from any fabric constraining him.

It can’t have looked very sexy, truthfully, but being seductive while blindfolded and collared isn’t Lance’s strong suit to begin with.

“Beautiful.” Shiro murmurs, and he is back in Lance’s space again. The way he says the word, like a prayer, sends a shiver all the way from Lance’s head to his toes.

Of course, _of course,_ Lance knows Shiro likes the way he looks. He’s told Lance hundreds of times, whispered against his ears or into his skin over and over like a mantra and yet… every time Lance hears it again it does _things_ to him he isn’t sure he wants to investigate too deeply.

Shiro’s right hand comes up and one metal finger hooks into the ring at the front of Lance’s collar. He is pulled forward, chest to chest with Shiro.

 

Something snaps shut with a click, then Shiro’s finger lets go of Lance’s collar. The pull doesn’t let off though, and Lance distantly realises that Shiro must have attached a leash to the ring. Lance shivers at the thought.

 

While Lance is completely naked now, Shiro is still entirely clothed and maybe, Lance is tempted to voice how unfair he finds this lack of skin showing on Shiro’s side.

Instead, Lance runs his hand over Shiro’s clothed chest and revels in the feeling of solid muscle and the coarse fabric of Shiro’s shirt under his palm. He’s going to touch as long as he is allowed to, and so far Shiro isn’t stopping him, so Lance will take advantage of this freedom as long as he can.

 

It feels different. Lance is a visual kind of guy, he appreciates the look as much as the feel of things, if not more. Now with his sight out of the picture, Lance _really_ uses his other senses. He takes in the smell of Shiro - alien shampoo, a lingering note of musk and sweat, mixing with the scent of arousal that’s beginning to tinge the air between them.

He runs his fingertips along the seams of Shiro’s shirt, then over the skin of Shiro’s neck - incredibly soft in contrast. His fingers roam higher, the buzzed hair at the back of Shiro’s scalp and Lance runs his hands over that too, exploring those textures with his palms.

Eventually, he loops his arms around Shiro’s neck, who’s been patiently standing by while Lance explored, and pushes closer.

Lance tilts his head back, up toward the direction he believes Shiro’s face to be, who takes the hint to give him a kiss.

It starts out gentle.

The leash keeps Lance close and while their lips move together, Shiro’s hands roams over the expanse of Lance’s back. He can feel the leather wrapped around Shiro’s palm when it traces over his skin, knows it is where Shiro is holding on to the leash.

Fingers trace over Lance’s sides, raising goosebumps in their wake. One hand finds his ass, squeezes, and Lance makes a very undignified sound into Shiro’s mouth.

He feels the rumble of Shiro’s chest against his when Shiro stifles a laugh. Bastard.

Their kiss doesn’t stay sweet for long.

Lance would not call Shiro _possessive_ , but the way he is claiming Lance’s mouth now leaves little room for a different description. He bites at Lance’s lips, then licks his way past them into Lance’s mouth, kissing with a hunger that leaves Lance breathless.

It’s like flipping a switch, Lance’s knees go weak and he holds on to Shiro, trying to give as good as he gets.

Shiro’s touches become more demanding, a little on the rougher side - pinching Lance’s nipples, squeezing his hips, his sides, his ass, pulling him impossibly closer.

It’s intoxicating, and it’s such a sudden change of pace that Lance struggles to keep up.

His cock, however, twitches with interest between them.

Lance feels Shiro grin into the kiss.

When Shiro eventually releases Lance’s mouth, he is panting, feels his lips sensitive and puffy. It must look obscene, and if the way Shiro groans when he runs his thumb over Lance’s lips a moment later is anything to go by, Lance looks like a right mess already.

 

“I want your arms.” Shiro rasps as he pulls away.

 

Shiro’s voice seems several octaves deeper, which Lance knows is mostly in his head, but there is an edge to it now that sends shivers of anticipation all throughout Lance’s body.

He likes it when this side of Shiro comes out to play.

 

The tug on the leash lessens, Lance takes a step back to raise his arms for Shiro. His head is still somewhat spinning from that kiss.

Shiro traces his hands from Lance’s shoulders to Lance’s forearms, then he brings Lance’s arms up between them. Shiro can easily hold both of Lance’s narrow wrists within one of his hands, and he takes advantage of that now.

“I’m going to cuff you.” Shiro says in that tone of voice that Lance knows means this isn’t up for discussion.

Lance finds himself nodding nevertheless, he has already expected something like this, having seen the cuffs before the blindfold was slid over his eyes.

The cool metal sliding against his wrists, and a moment a second set of cuffs higher up his arms, is a stark contrast to Lance’s rapidly heating skin. Unlike Shiro’s metal arm, the cuffs do not regulate their temperature, and Lance is left to shiver slightly.

The feeling isn’t entirely unwelcome, it grounds Lance, gives him something to shift his attention toward.

“The bed’s behind you.” Shiro’s voice again, just as his hands leave Lance’s arms. “I want you on it, hands and knees. Can you do that babe?”

Lance doesn’t reply. Instead, he waits for Shiro to drop the leash, then takes an experimental step back until he feels the edge of the bed against his calves. He knows Shiro is ready to catch in case he falls, can feel the warmth radiating from hands hovering just above his skin.

He sinks down , moving to sit first so he doesn’t topple over blindly missing the bed. Even though his movement is limited by the cuffs, Lance turns over easily.

He crawls to the middle of the bed, then pushes himself up again for Shiro.

Despite not being able to see, Lance likes to believe he looks quite tempting like this, naked and waiting.

“Good,” Shiro says, and Lance smirks. His voice is definitely a touch off now.

 

“You’re so pretty like this, Lance,” Shiro whispers then. The bed dips with Shiro’s weight as he follows Lance onto it, and a second later his hand comes back to Lance’s skin, warm as it strokes over Lance’s flank. The metal hand finds the leash, but doesn’t pull it taunt.

“So beautiful. Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

“No., Lance purrs with fake innocence in his voice. Speaking feels strange, but Shiro hasn’t gagged him, so he must be allowed to. “You can show me.”

 

With that, Lance shifts. His arms rest under his chest when he lies his face down on the bed, cheek against the mattress, and pushes back against Shiro’s touch on his leg.

 

Shiro answers by moving closer himself and pressing his clothed crotch against Lance’s bare ass to make him feel the effect he’s having on Shiro. There is no mistaking the hardness that settles against Lance’s cheeks and he instinctively pushes back against it.

 

Lance’s face flushes with heat, and his arousal is heavy in the air. A curse slips past his lips, he needs more than this teasing.

Shiro groans again, quieter this time, and both of his hands run up Lance’s thighs now, rubbing and squeezing at the skin.

Lance wonders if Shiro is going to fuck him like this, collared, cuffed and leashed, and the thought alone makes his cock throb a little.

“Spread your legs for me, babe.” Shiro murmurs.

 

He shifts away, not far; one hand stays on the small of Lance’s back and before Lance gets to mourn the absence of warmth, Shiro is behind him again.

Lance does as he is told, pushing his legs apart and settling more on the bed. Again, Shiro praises him quietly as he soothes his palms over Lance’s skin, and Lance quietly whines for more.

 

When a kiss is pressed just above Lance’s tailbone, however, he starts a little.

Shiro halts, but when Lance doesn’t say anything, he presses another kiss to the same spot, then a few more left and right along Lance’s hips, steadily moving lower.

Lance knows where this is heading; he whines again, pushing back against Shiro, silently asking for more.

 

Shiro’s hands spread his cheeks, hot breath fans over Lance’s skin and his hands, trapped under his chest, fist into the sheets. He cusses again under his breath.

 

At first, nothing but a brush of lips against Lance’s rim, then a kiss. He moans, high and needy, internally cursing Shiro in his head for being such a tease.

 

Then the flat of Shiro’s tongue presses against him, and Lance sucks in a sharp breath. He is sure his hole flutters against Shiro’s tongue at the sudden attention, and Lance can feel Shiro grin before he licks over Lance’s rim again.

 

Lance knew from the moment that Shiro put a blindfold on him that he’d be a mess tonight. He hadn’t thought it would take so little to get him panting and whining and begging, though.

 

With his face against the mattress, Lance writhes against Shiro, who nips and licks and kisses, coaxing Lance open until he can lick _inside_.

A steady, jumbled stream of words leaves Lance’s lips, incoherent pleas, mixed with Shiro’s name and curses. So much for Shiro helping him quieten down.

 

Shiro’s mercicless. He licks Lance open, fucks him with his tongue, determined rather than teasing now, and soon enough, one of Shiro’s fingers joins his mouth, rubbing none too gently along the wrinkled skin of Lance’s rim.

 

“Please, Shiro, I - more.” Lance whines and writhes, and this time, Shiro listens.

 

Shiro hums, lips vibrating against Lance’s sensitive skin. Lance knows he is slick with spit, but as Shiro pulls his finger away, Lance still hears the distinctive sound of lube being squeezed out of a tube. He keens with anticipation.

 

Shiro is careful easing in the first digit of his finger, but after coaxing Lance open with his tongue like this, it’s a much smoother process than it might normally be.

Lance has his face buried in the mattress in an attempt to muffle his babbling now; curses and moans are swallowed by the sheets.

 

Shiro’s devilish mouth doesn’t leave - instead it keeps kissing, licking, _biting_ , while Shiro’s finger works Lance open, soon enough joined by a second. There is nothing to distract Lance from the sensation, with his sight taken from him and his movement restricted.

 

“You’re doing so well for me, Lance.” Shiro’s voice is wrecked, and that, along with his words, makes Lance groan into the mattress. He’s so weak for Shiro’s praise.

 

Between his legs, Lance’s cock is leaking, precum dripping from the tip, but Lance has a feeling Shiro won’t touch it anytime soon.

 

A third finger joins the others, and they crook low. Shiro changes his angle, thrusts his fingers harder, until he hits the spot he is looking for and Lance makes a choked sound of pleasure. Now that he’s found what he is looking for, Shiro doesn’t relent. His fingers stroke over the little bundle of nerves again and again until Lance’s thighs tremble and he bucks his hips back against Shiro’s fingers, wanting to sob into the pillow because he is _so close._

 

Lance is wound so tight, heat making his toes curl and desperate moans fall from his lips. If Shiro keeps going like this, he’ll snap, come all over their sheets before Shiro has even done as much as take his shirt off.

 

Then, suddenly, Shiro’s fingers are gone. Lance’s next moan sounds more like a sob, he was _right there_ , he could feel it coming over him.

 

“It’s okay.” Shiro coos, hands soothing over Lance’s legs, his sides, his back. “I’ve got you, it’s okay, babe.”

 

Lance is inclined to disagree, but Shiro’s gentle touch is coaxing him back from the brink, and when he feels a tug on the collar - Shiro pulling the leash tight - he follows the pull pliantly. Shiro’s arms wrap around his torso, pulling Lance to sit back and rest against Shiro’s chest.

 

“Don’t pout at me.” Shiro murmurs, his lips pressing a line of kissing from Lance’s shoulder up to his ear. “You don’t want it to be over already, do you?”

 

Lance shakes his head and drops it back against Shiro’s shoulder, trying to calm his breathing and ignore the painfully heavy arousal between his legs. Shiro’s hands run over his chest, his tummy, his thighs, never touching Lance’s leaking cock curving up against his stomach.

Then, Shiro’s hands finds its way back between Lance’s legs and he sighs with relief when Shiro’s fingers run over his rim again.

 

“Please.” Lance whispers, turning his head to nuzzle Shiro’s neck, and press his pleas like kisses into Shiro’s skin. The warmth of Shiro’s bare shoulder against his cheek makes him hum, and only then does Lance realise Shiro must have taken off his shirt at some point without realising.

 

Shiro kisses Lance’s throat, his shoulder, his neck. At one point he stops just to suck a mark into the skin and Lance moans, tilting his head back and baring himself for more.

Two of Shiro’s fingers sink into Lance again, he moans needily, hips bucking, demanding more, but Shiro moves deliberately slow.

 

“Please, Shiro, I need - ” Lance tries again, then cries out when Shiro’s fingers brush over his sensitive prostate again. After the earlier assault, it’s almost too much to take.

 

He feels Shiro grin, his lips curving  where he is nipping and sucking at Lance’s neck. Shiro’s fingers leave him once more and Lance is about to protest when something cool and smooth - metal? - slides over his pucker instead.

It can’t be Shiro’s right hand, since that’s firmly placed on Lance’s sternum with the leash wrapped around the palm. Lance squirms a little, Shiro makes a low, soothing sound and then the metal toy sinks into him.

 

It’s shockingly cold, Lance gasps and bucks his hips, grinding back against it. The flared base sits snug against his rim, the metal only slowly warming up to the heat inside him. Then, it begins to buzz.

 

Lance curses, words spilling past his lips and he writhes against Shiro, against the toy. It’s almost enough to push him over the edge, still so sensitive after Shiro almost made him cum mere minutes ago, but it only brings Lance to the brink and holds him there.

He thinks he might start crying.

 

Shiro hums, then whispers quiet praise into Lance’s ear, reminding him how good he looks and how well he is doing and how much Shiro loves to see him like this. The toy keeps buzzing, Lance’s thoughts go fuzzy.

 

He only half realises that he is being moved, or that Shiro moves around him - Lance can’t really tell. He hears the ruffle of clothes, then feels Shiro’s thighs on either side of his own. Trying to wrap his mind around what position they are in, Lance almost doesn’t hear the squelch of lube forced out of its tube.

Shiro must be lying, sitting, in front of him, but Lance doesn’t understand why - isn’t Shiro going to fuck him? Tease him more? What is going on?

 

When Lance is being tugged forward by the leash attached to his collar, he loses his balance, but catches himself on Shiro’s chest instead of falling. He’s between Shiro’s legs, bent over him, but Lance only understands when Shiro pushes himself up enough that he can whisper in Lance’s ear.

 

“I know what you want, but you’ll have to earn it.” Shiro whispers. His lips brush Lance’s cheek in an almost kiss. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

If Lance wasn’t already out of his mind, this would be the moment he’d lose it. Shiro pulls him forward again, Lance’s cock brushes Shiro’s thigh and he whines high and needy. This will kill him.

 

Part of Lance wishes he could see when Shiro aligns them, urging Lance forward with a gentle tug on the leash. He’s done this before, yes, but tonight it feels so much more intense and Lance wishes he could see Shiro’s face as he is being eased into him.

 

It occurs to Lance that Shiro must have stretched himself open before Lance even came to the room, must have planned this all along. He sinks into Shiro with hardly any resistance, his hands slide higher until they rest on Shiro’s pecs and the low moan Lance feels under his palms when he bottoms out is all the encouragement he needs now.

 

It should be too much. The metal toy is still buzzing inside him, but the sending is so low that it hardly takes the edge off, and Shiro is hot and tight and really, after being wound up so tightly, this should be enough to make him come.

 

Lance remembers Shiro’s words though, and he rests his forehead against his hands on Shiro’s chest until he is sure he can move without ending this before it starts. Shiro’s cock is full and heavy, Lance can feel it against his stomach and even though Shiro must be as much on edge by now as Lance, Shiro doesn’t urge him.

 

Lance murmurs a quiet curse, straightens up as much as the leash will allow, and rolls his hips. Shiro makes an appreciative sound, praise whispered under his breath, and Lance convinces himself he can do this.

 

It starts slow, simply because with all the stimulation, Lance won’t be able to take it otherwise. Shiro doesn’t move with him, but his quiet pants are enough to tell Lance he is doing something right. The buzzing metal toy presses against his prostate when Lance moves, but he is growing used to the heat of Shiro around him, dares to move faster.

 

Lance couldn’t shut himself up even if he tried. He’s babbling, telling Shiro how good he feels, how close he is, how much he loves him, only interrupted by curses and moans and at this point, Lance isn’t even sure which language he is speaking.

 

When Lance picks up the pace, he is rewarded with a moan, a tug on the leash bringing him closer to Shiro again. He feels sweat run down his cheek, his back, shivering and trembling with how many sensations he is feeling.

 

Lance is getting closer again, his hands are twitching where they rest on Shiro’s chest.

 

“You want to come?” Shiro purrs and Lance curses under his breath.

 

At first, he only nods, then he’s back to begging, thrusting harder, faster.

“Y-yes.” Lance moans, shivers, Shiro’s trembling, too, and Lance wonders if he’ll manage to stroke Shiro’s cock despite his restraints and Shiro’s tight hold on the leash. “Please.”

 

“Then make me come.” Shiro sounds smug.

 

Lance bites his lip, hard, he can’t - he won’t last. It’s a small miracle he hasn’t come already, but Shiro is asking the impossible.

 

“Come on, babe.” Shiro cooes then, a little tug on the leash and Lance moves again, moves harder, faster than before. “You feel so good, doing so well for me.”

 

Shiro moves with him then, Lance feels and hears his ragged pants, his moans. He is running his fingers over Shiro’s nipples - he can’t get low enough to stroke Shiro’s cock, so this will have to do. Lance angles his hips, but Shiro gives hardly any indication if Lance is hitting where he means to.

 

Shiro murmurs something in a language Lance doesn’t understand, but it sounds like a curse. All of a sudden, the buzzing of the toy intensifies, Lance jerks his hips, it’s pressing right up against his prostate now, there is no way -

 

Shiro gasps, moans, and then he is coming, tightening is rapid spasms around Lance. His come hits Lance’s arms, his hands, some even his chest. It’s so overwhelming, Lance cries out, and then he is coming, too - no reason to hold back anymore. Pleasure is wracking through his body as he works them both through it, his thighs tremble, his arms give out and he is resting his forehead against Shiro’s pecs as he rolls his hips and chases the white-hot feeling.

The buzzing slows to a stop but Lance clenches around the toy even after it stills.

 

Lance isn’t entirely sure what happens after.

 

He know he is lying on top of Shiro for a while, still inside him as they both pant and come down from their high. Then, gentle hands unclasp the cuffs on his wrists and pull him properly into Shiro’s arms, although they both hiss when Lance’s cock slides free.

The collar comes loose, Lance thinks, the heavy weight of it around his throat gone. Shiro’s palms soothe all over his skin, and eventually one of Shiro’s hands slowly works the toy out of Lance again.

 

The blindfold doesn’t move, yet.

 

Shiro is holding him, kissing him sweetly on his cheeks, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Lance returns slowly from whatever place his mind has gone to, mewls and snuggles his head against the crook of Shiro’s neck.

 

“Welcome back, handsome.” Shiro whispers. It sounds a little teasing, but the kiss to Lance’s temple that follows is sweet, so Lance can’t bring himself to mind.

 

Lance tries to reply, but instead of words leaving his throat, all he manages is a little croak. Shiro chuckles and sits up with Lance in his lap.

 

“Think we can take the blindfold off? It didn’t want to shock you with the brightness.” Shiro asks and adjusts their position so Lance comfortably rests against his chest. “I’ve got some water for you too, if you’re ready.”

 

Lance smiles, hides his face against Shiro’s neck for a moment to swallow the fondness that is threatening to explode out of his chest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think down below <3


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